<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>When I Die, Say Vale by drainspoon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519078">When I Die, Say Vale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/drainspoon/pseuds/drainspoon'>drainspoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newt's Life Work aka his Angst Collection [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Self-Hatred, medieval/kingdom au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:48:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/drainspoon/pseuds/drainspoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted more than a guarded friendship caked in required professionalism, but he was greedy and that's why he could have none of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mumbo Jumbo/Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF), impulseSV/Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newt's Life Work aka his Angst Collection [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When I Die, Say Vale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this because i started imagining eating flowers and my throat got cold and scratchy after reading a hanahaki bdoc oneshot so you guys suffer</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>his admiration for the man was unmatched, though his love unrequited he would've stood by him for as long as he lived, should the man have asked such of him. he was bound to the palace walls by a deal of servitude honored for generations before him, he'd grown up with the man and believed they shared a bond even if now, to him, he was just the head redstoner's son. he loved him, but the man felt no love back.</p><p>and that's why mumbo fell ill.</p><p>mumbo flung the covers from his waist, hand slammed over his mouth as he bolted to the toilet, poising himself over it as he began hacking up the petals of beguiling flowers that had quite literally taken his breath away, and that had became the very bane of his tortured existence in the few months that they had begun to make their presence known. splashing into water mixing in to become a dulled red fell leaves, and thorns, and chunks of stem amongst a sea of tangerine yellow flowers, of which he did not know nor care to know the name of. he even could feel the silken petals that tore him asunder on his lips when he spoke, a constant reminder of the illness.</p><p>the illness which would destroy his life, either physically or socially, the decision his to choose. the prince had commended to him this position, and if anyone were to find out what plagued him in his wake he would surely lose it. so he'd vowed to keep it a secret till his inevitable expiry, refusing to be bed-bound by the witchery that haunted him, even from some of his closest companions. he'd learned it was best to keep his mouth shut. especially about matters such as this. matters as in his love of the prince.</p><p>he wanted to hold his hand and pull him into his embrace, and hold him there for hours on end. he wanted to call him sweet nicknames without being corrected by a guard into calling him the prince. he wanted to be able to say his name and call him his own, to say that they were together to the end and to have it be true. he wanted more than a guarded friendship caked in required professionalism, but he was greedy and that's why he could have none of it. </p><p>so, he was happy watching on the sidelines as the prince fell for another and shared in the moments he could only hope they would have in his brightest dreams. even if when he saw them together, he would start choking, and he would feel the petals gathering in his throat, and he would be forced to run to the toilet to spew blood and guts into the porcelain bowl, and he would tear up as he threw up entire flowers, bright yellow stained with his <em>toxic</em> red, and he knew he was deserving of it because of the greed he had to want a man taken by someone else. because it was wrong to want to pry tango from impulse's arms, to take him in his own. because mumbo was a cruel, cruel man for seeing their happiness and wanting to destroy it.</p><p>mumbo slumped against the wall, blood dripping down his chin, arms too weak to wipe it away as a petal fluttered from his open mouth. he hated impulse with all he was. he could not understand how the lordling had enraptured his prince, and he longed for a world where the young man had never existed. he plained over the reality of his life for hours in the night, sobbing and begging for a way to make his love shared. but he was a poltroon—an utter coward. one who failed to even remit his love. one who did not deserve even a smidge of forgiveness. a stain on the history of his sweeting love, the delicate prince.</p><p>he felt the thorns creep their way up his throat again and threw himself back over the bowl.</p><p>
  <em>i deserve this.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>note for extra sadness: vale means goodbye</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>